


This Is Not a Dream

by septiceyesweetheart



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Demons, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Dreams and Nightmares, Drug Abuse, Hallucinations, Other, Sex Addiction, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-04-06 11:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14055525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septiceyesweetheart/pseuds/septiceyesweetheart
Summary: the real reason why ethan was taken under the teamiplier wing





	1. no, something seems wrong

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on my tumblr back in october and then i deleted it and rewrote it and now its here. read at your own goddamn risk.

**~October 2016**

 

This was good news. Great news. The best news. This was going to change everything. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. Maybe that’s why Ethan couldn’t stop crying, losing it, unhinging for the thousandth time.

 

It had been on and off for the last few weeks, the tears. He didn’t know why, but it felt like every little thing made him burst. Not only did Ethan cry, but he also yelled and screamed. Most of all, he would break whatever was in sight. He’ll throw things, punch, kick… He’ll go out in the middle of the night and take a bat to an unsuspecting mailbox. He was usually aware when he did these things, meaning it wasn't technically a blind rage that sent him into these episodes. He’s gone through several mugs, a few controllers, and he even had to buy a new camera one time. All because of these tears and weird destructive urges he couldn’t control.

 

He wanted to throw his phone just after this call. It was a good call, though. It was life changing. But he had to force himself to calmly set the device down on his desk and move away from it. Ethan got to his feet, sniffling and sobbing, and then he tore off some of the foam padding on the wall. Did it matter? No, he was moving at the end of the month. He could destroy a few more things.

 

Foam pads were strewn across the floor by the time he was done. But Ethan still felt… destructive. No, worse. He knew what he wanted to do. He just had the slightest worry that it would actually work this time. But he had to do it.

 

Blood was pounding in his ears as he pulled on his sweater and beanie. Before he knew it, he was in the car, driving to the location he had been to plenty of times before. He parked some distance away and walked the rest of the way.

 

In all honesty, he had no idea what led him to this the first time. It was like this feeling in chest and gut, like an impulse. Once it fell into his head, he had to do it immediately. There was no going back. Crying was one of those things he felt like he had to do. This, however… this was a lot darker.

 

A few cars passed as Ethan approached the bridge. None of them stopped. None of them ever did. He couldn’t help but appreciate that. He didn’t know what would happen if this got back to his family. He had quite a bit to lose, but he still boosted himself up on the railing. This was really stupid, he thought to himself as he looked down at the drop he’d seen many times before.

 

“Something’s wrong,” he spoke to himself before leaping off.

 

The cold, bitter air hitting his face was the most painful part, as strange as that was to admit. But what if it actually worked this time? He didn’t even say goodbye to his dad as he left the house. He’d never get to experience that job in Los Angeles. He’d never interact with his online community again. Would this be the one to do it?

 

“Nope,” Ethan mumbled once he was face down on the ground. Dirt was in his mouth, and his face was numb from the cold. He sat up and coughed, both relieved and disturbed that he didn’t die. Again.

 

Ethan sat back and brought his knees to his chest, shivering. Was it going to be like this once he moves? Would he be able to control it? 

 

~

 

_ “He can’t help us, he’s a kid!”  _ roared the booming voice of Darkiplier. It echoed around the spacious, black room, enough to make any mortal’s blood run cold.

 

_ “We need all the help we can get,”  _ replied the soft and frighteningly serene voice of Peevils, who was sat on top of the desk across the room.  _ “Besides, the younger they are, the more powerful they can be.” _

 

Her pitch black eyes gazed down at the stoic mortal sat in the armchair. He was sat up straight, on the edge of his seat. His usual brown eyes had rolled back into his skull and his mouth was gaping open. Dark was was “stood” by the body, his suit clad form flickering with distortion. He was always in black and white, but a blue and red aura was always around him. The biggest thing that fascinated Peevils was that this man, her supposed lover, was impossible to touch. Well that, and she could hear him in her mind and he could speak to her personally, even when their mortals were present.

 

Peevils, on the other hand, was from a whole other galaxy. She couldn’t quite remember how she got to Earth, much less how she got in contact with her mortal. All she knew was that her mortal was very willing and complicit. Peevils had cool powers too, but she seldom used them on this planet. Her aura often mixed with the mortal’s, making it a weird greyish yellow.

 

_ “Maybe you shouldn’t have let your mortal make that decision,”  _ spoke Stoneface in his deep, intimidating voice. No one knew where he came from, or what his true powers were, aside from killing people after intimate affairs. He had much paler skin compared to his mortal, and his eyes were greyer than concrete, while his aura was black. You couldn’t look into his eyes without feeling paralyzed to the spot.

 

Everything surrounding the trio was dark and dim. The atmosphere was that of another realm. No human would be able to stand with them for very long. No human, except one.

 

_ “The mortal needed him for his own desires, not ours,” _ Dark growled.  _ “And he was coping at the time, so I couldn’t intervene. But… I felt something. It was like a whisper.” _

 

_ “So we just wait til the boy arrives,”  _ Peevils concluded.  _ “I feel it won’t be a waste.” _

 

_ “You feel a lot of things,”  _ Stoneface said back.

 

Her face fell. She stared ahead wordlessly, and imagined what she wanted to happen, and then it was real.

 

Stoneface immediately started gasping for air, his relaxed composure turning into nothing but pain and panic. His body began to rise up from the couch and it contorted into unnatural folds.

 

_ “Mercy! Mercy!”  _ he strained out just before his bones could snap.

 

Peevils lifted, a ghost of a smile on her face.

 

Then, the room lightened up. The walls went back to white as the door to the office opened, and the trio were back in the human world, thanks to the one human they all knew.

 

Kathryn walked in, carrying a brown paper bag. A tall, dark haired, skimpy dressed woman followed behind her, looking curiously around the room. Peevils quickly looked down, knowing her eyes were prone to cause panic, and Dark was nowhere to be seen. The human led the other human over to Stoneface, whose eyes suddenly went back to a humanistic hazel.

 

“Hi, I’m Tyler,” he greeted, and the woman smiled in returned. He offered his arm. “If you’ll follow me…” And the two were off into another room.

 

Then, Kathryn turned towards Peevils, but instead was met face to face with Dark, who did not look happy.

 

_ “We were having a meeting! _ ” he snapped, trying to look threatening.

 

She rolled her eyes and moved her arm forward, making the image fade away. After that, she reached into the paper bag and pulled out a plastic ziplock bag that was contained with white powder. Kathryn waved it in the direction of Peevils.

 

The blonde’s eyes flickered once. Kathryn had her attention now, so she slowly bent down towards the coffee table, opened up the bag and poured out some of the contents onto the glass surface. In the blink of an eye, the alien was sat on the floor in front of the table, using an old business card to make her series of lines. She hunched over the table as she snorted to her heart’s content, and when she looked up, her eyes were not black, but brown and humanlike.

 

“Alright, Amy’s back,” Kathryn said in affirmation. Then she turned to her boss.

 

He still had that horrifying expression on his face, but at least the body wasn’t moved. The last thing Kathryn wanted to do today was to pry Dark and his mortal away from something illegal or fatal… not that he could die, anyway.

 

_ “Don’t you dare…”  _ the hallucination spoke, appearing behind the armchair.

 

She didn’t even hesitate to straight up bitch slap the body across the face. The last aura was finally gone, and the body had, for lack of a better phrase, come back to life. He swore in pain and held his cheek.

 

“Mark?”

 

“Yeah, what the fuck?”

 

Kathryn nodded once and pulled the last item from the paper bag. A bottle of Jack Daniel’s. She shoved it into Mark’s hand and then crumpled up the bag, tossing it in the bin.

 

Mark just sat there for a moment, still coming back to himself. He felt that internal twitch, though, so he twisted the cap off the glass bottle and took a swig. Then he moved to the floor, next to his girlfriend, who was now baked like a fucking cake. Just another day in the office.

 

Now, Kathryn was able to get back to her actual work. She sat at one of the computers, but then paused as she thought of the newcomer they were expecting. Poor kid had no idea what he was walking into.

 

**~November 2016**

 

The team noticed something about their newest member. It wasn’t what was on the inside, no. Not the reason why they brought him over here.

 

Ethan was happy. Giddy. Very doe eyed. Upon arriving to the office on the first day, he thanked Mark many times for the opportunity. He was just… not what you would expect from someone like him. He almost seemed normal.

 

See, when you’re like Mark, Amy, and Tyler, you get this feeling, an instinct, even. They could sense each other’s demons, even when they were dormant. Amy and Tyler feel Darkiplier’s jitters when their Mark got rubbed the wrong way. That was probably because Peevils and Stoneface were so connected to Dark, and by extension, their mortals. They could all sense each other inside and out. In their logical, human eyes, the feeling of the three demons scheming in the background was seen as “impending doom.” The only human able to see past that was Kathryn, and none of them knew why.

 

But Ethan? He seemed like any ordinary human, and that was just weird. There was almost no impending doom vibes coming from him as the days went on. This wasn’t what they had been expecting.

 

“So…” Mark prompted one day, “how’ve you been? Y’know… since the move?”

 

“Fine,” Ethan mindlessly responded. He was on the computer, doing exactly what he was hired for.

 

The other four exchanged looks. Apart from Kathryn, they were experiencing withdrawals from their… coping. The plan was to get the other guys to meet Ethan’s other guy… just to see what would happen. The latter was proving to be difficult, given that there was no instinct or any indication that his bodily occupant wanted to come out, or that it was even there. Did that guy even have a name?

 

“You’re f-fine?” Amy repeated irritably, her voice shaking. “Y-You dropped everything, moved all the way here, and you’re just fine?”

 

Now Ethan caught onto the tension. He turned in his chair, only to feel deeply intimidated by the staring. Something was off, and it wasn’t just the stupid crying fit growing in his chest and throat.

 

“I’m just glad I’m here,” he said, but it didn’t feel like the right answer.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Tyler blurted out.

 

“What?”

 

“Jesus fucking christ,” Kathryn sighed in annoyance as she buried her face in her hands.

 

“God, I’m sorry,” Tyler quickly said. “I didn’t mean that, fuck. I’m an asshole, I’m sorry.”

 

Mark could feel it, though. A cold chill went down his spine,  telling him that he was right to bring Ethan in. He felt a tightness in his throat, this feeling of dread sitting heavy on his shoulders. He hadn’t felt this with the other two, this had to be Ethan.

 

“You don’t miss what you left behind?” Mark asked as he got up from the couch, putting on a hard face. “I mean… you sacrificed your whole life for this, didn’t you?”

 

The dread only grew. Ethan shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

 

“Yeah, but I made that decision,” he timidly replied.

 

“Like the grown up you think you are?” Amy mocked.

 

It was there, right there. The four nearly gasped as Ethan’s eyes flickered to black once. But the boy quickly shook himself and stood up.

 

“I’ll be right back.”

 

The surge of emotions lifted as soon as he left the room. But then, the walls went black, and the three auras appeared. Meanwhile, Kathryn let out another annoyed groan.

 

Mark’s body froze where he stood, and his head fell back as Dark made his appearance. Tyler’s body paled, eyes turning grey. Amy appeared sat on top of the coffee table with her legs crossed, eyes black and empty.

 

_ “Hey doesn’t even know what he is!”  _ Dark shouted, his image flickering angrily around the room.

 

_ “Of course not, he’s a kid,”  _ Peevils shot back coolly.  _ “And you’re not the one who asked him to come here. Why are you concerned now?” _

 

Dark appeared in front of her, his face inches from hers.  _ “I felt it! There is something there, but the boy isn’t letting him through! He’s powerful, and I am powerful. That’s why I could feel him!” _

 

_ “Don’t make me slap your mortal,”  _ Peevils threatened as she waved her hand through him.

 

_ “So what do we do?”  _ Stoneface asked, getting the couple back on track.  _ “Do we let the mortals handle it?” _

 

_ “Provoking him did help a little bit,”  _ Peevils pointed out.

 

_ “Yes,”  _ Dark agreed.  _ “They have to push him past his limits. Whatever it takes. If they have to destroy whatever humanity he has left in him, then so be it. He has to be disturbed, humiliated. Anything to get to what’s truly lying within.” _

 

“So you guys are going to go silent, then?” Kathryn asked.

 

_ “It’s the only option,”  _ Peevils confirmed.

 

That prompted the human to quickly flee the office. She had to make a big order.

 

~

 

Ethan managed to find a corner store down the road. The blind rage he went through caused him to break more things, and his knuckles were bleeding yet again. He also debated jumping off one of the high buildings, but this city was far too busy for anyone to not notice. Instead, he found another solution. He was sure his ‘friends/colleagues’ wouldn’t miss him for a few more minutes. Or at all.

 

Tear tracks were on his face as he went through the aisles. Look at him, a grown 20 year old, unable to control his crying. How did he get like this? He was never this emotional about anything! Sure, the group had ganged up on him, but things like that weren’t likely to make him burst into tears.

 

He calmed down some more when he found rubbing alcohol and bandages. However, there was only one box left of the latter, and it was pink and flowery. Reluctantly, he took the box and went into the next aisle. There were painkillers, vitamins, and sleep aids. For a second, a flash of lacing his friends’ drinks with pills went through his mind. It was short, but vivid. One by one, passing out around him.

 

He chuckled and kept walking. “Yeah right…” Then, he stopped in his tracks, went back and grabbed the biggest bottle of sleeping pills he could find.

 

After paying for his items (and getting some weird looks from the cashier), Ethan settled for sitting under the awning outside the store. He didn’t feel like going back to the office just yet, despite the fact that it was already getting dark. As he tended to his hand injury, he tried to forget all that he damaged. Several cars parked on the side of the road now had cracked windshields, and a few more mailboxes were wrecked. He could only hope that there weren't any witnesses. He had only been in LA for about a week, he couldn't get arrested now.

 

“Hey darlin’,” greeted a sickly sweet female voice.

 

He turned to find a red headed woman perching down next to him. She was wearing a rather revealing top under a fur coat along with a really short skirt. It rode up as she crouched down, making Ethan lose his words for a moment.

 

“H-Hi,” he replied, keeping his eyes on his injured hand.

 

“Did you get into a fight, honey?” the woman asked.

 

“Something like that...”

 

“Strong man, aren’t ya?”

 

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m putting on Hello Kitty bandaids.”

 

The woman giggled and moved closer to him. “Strong and cute.”

 

There was a feeling. Pinning her to the ground, a hand around her neck as the back of her head hitting the concrete. Slamming her head into the ground until she bled to death. Watching her green eyes lose their panic and fade into nothingness. Is it bad that it was nice to think about?   
  


“Marsha!” called a familiar voice.

 

It was Kathryn. She approached the pair, her hood up and her hands in the pocket. Ethan was relieved to see her.

 

The redhead got to her feet. “You’re not here to send me to that friend of yours again, are you?”

 

“Why, do you have other plans?” she asked in return.

 

“Yes! I found a new friend!” Marsha pointed down at the boy with Hello Kitty bandaids.

 

Kathryn glanced down at him. “Yeah, not him. Can’t afford to have Tyler beat his ass right now.”

 

That was both confusing and not reassuring at all. Could Ethan down the whole bottle of pills without either woman noticing?

 

“Well, I’m not going. I’ll ask Sydney. She knows where to find you guys,” Marsha said in conclusion.

 

“Awesome. Ethan, get up.”

 

He didn’t need telling twice. Kathryn gestured for him to follow, and they walked back towards the office together.

 

“What’d you do?” she asked, nodding towards his hand.

 

“Don’t ask,” he said with a sigh. Not like he could properly explain it, anyway.

 

Luckily, she didn’t press the topic. When they approached the building, she stopped in her tracks and pulled a brown paper bag from under her sweater.

 

“I won’t ask questions,” she told Ethan. “But neither will you.”


	2. saying my prayers, don't take me back there

Any other person would have ghosted the second they saw what Ethan saw. Anyone else would have judged, asked questions, or simply packed up and left altogether. It wasn’t just that he was told not to ask any questions (and boy, did he have a lot), and it wasn’t just the fact that he was here in Los Angeles doing exactly what he wanted to do in life… or maybe it was. That was part of it. Maybe he was blinded by the excitement and new challenges that came with this job, and that’s what was telling him to keep his feet planted firmly on this new ground.

 

So what if these people were addicted to different substances and actions? Ethan’s destroyed probably twenty different cars and even more mailboxes in the last week. He tried to kill himself a few more times too. He didn’t really have any reason for the latter, though. It was just a gut feeling, like he had to do it, just to make sure he still couldn’t die. Well… he was still here, after all.

 

It was another day. He was greeted by the overpowering stench of marijuana and hard liquor when he walked into the office. The room was slightly fogged with smoke, and lo and behold, Amy was sat on the couch, smoking a blunt with the woman Ethan met the other night, Marsha. Despite her reluctance to sleep with Tyler that night, Marsha had been here for the last couple of days. Mark was nowhere to be seen, so he was probably recording… or passed out in his recording room… or vomiting in the bathroom. That happened a lot. Ethan wasn’t allowed to question it, even though it was easy to put together why that happened so often.

 

That fact was a bit of a low blow when Ethan first arrived here. He looked up to Mark a lot, he admired the guy’s motivation and integrity. He believed Mark when he said in a video that he could no longer drink any alcohol, or else he would literally die. Yet here he was, drinking excessively off camera, using his intoxicated self as his online persona. If that wasn’t the biggest reality check…

 

Ethan went over and sat next to Kathryn at the computers. He got to work, trying not to let the bout of unnecessary despair consume him. Yes, despair. He actually overdosed on the pills he bought the other day because he hadn’t tried that method before. Obviously, it didn’t work. He would be lying if he said it only happened once in the last few days. He just slept for hours at a time and had a lot of disturbing dreams that involved blood, mumbling, black eyes, and a weird feeling of impending doom. He awoke that morning with his hand twitching.

 

When Amy took the seat next to him, Ethan wanted to be sick. This girl almost always smelled like drugs. It was so overpowering, he couldn’t even focus. That, and she kept staring at him.

 

“What’s your poison?” she asked before he could get his headphones on.

 

“What?” Ethan replied.

 

“How do you cope?” she elaborated. Then, she pointed at his hands, which now had X-Men bandaids on the knuckles. “Do you fight people? Oh my god, do you have a fight club?” She looked way too excited about that possibility.

 

“Amy,” warned Kathryn, who hadn’t looked up from her monitor.

 

The blonde nodded, pointing finger guns at Ethan. “Ooh… first rule. Gotcha.”

 

“What did you mean by coping?” Ethan asked, unable to control himself. He wasn’t supposed to ask, but that particular word seemed out of the blue.

 

“Hey!” Kathryn suddenly piped up. “Amy, did you go through your whole stash?”

 

She held up the half smoked blunt as a response. “This is the last of it.”

 

“Do you want something better?”

 

You’ve got to be kidding, Ethan wanted to say out loud. She wasn’t an enabler, was she?

 

“Don’t tease me, dude.”

 

Kathryn then grabbed her backpack from the floor and reached into it. She pulled out a large bag of chips and gave it to the blonde, who immediately snatched it up and chowed down. Ethan internally sighed in relief, until the only other sane person in the room announced that she was going to run an errand.

 

“Where are you going?” he asked as she got up from the table.

 

“Weed isn’t going to hold her down,” she said with a shrug. “I have to get some other stuff. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

 

“You’re leaving me alone with them?” He didn’t mean for it to sound as helpless and pathetic as it did.

 

“You say that like it’s such a bad thing, honey,” said Marsha from the couch. “We’ll have a fun time together.”

 

Ethan would have been flattered if he wasn’t so nervous. He followed Kathryn out the door, out into the building’s parking lot.

 

“Pretend like you’re working,” Kathryn advised, somewhat impatient. “Or, you know, actually work. Food is gonna hold Amy down for now, and Tyler will be here any minute for Marsha. You should be fine til I get back.”

 

“Is it always like this?” he asked in return. When he received no answer, he added, “Oh, right. No questions. Here’s one anyway: what about Mark?”

 

Kathryn checked the time on her phone. “He should be done recording soon. If he seems off, there’s another bottle of Jack in the couch cushion.”

 

That made Ethan’s stomach turn uncomfortably as he watched her walk down the street. Now he had to be the enabler? Was this even what he signed up for?

 

“How would he seem off?” he called after her.

 

“Good luck!”

 

His head was starting to hurt. He rubbed the back of his neck as he went back up to the office. Once he was back inside, he found Tyler and Marsha making out on the couch while Amy was sat on the floor next to them, still munching on her chips. Then, Mark came out of the recording room, empty bottle of whiskey in hand.

 

“We’re going to the park!” he announced. “We’re making videos with fans! Best idea, right?” When no one responded, he went to the couch and pulled the kissing couple apart. “Ty-lore! Stop fucking around! We got shit to do!”

 

The park. In public?

 

“Amy!” Mark pointed to his girlfriend. “Take a shower!”

 

“I can’t, I’m in the fucking clouds!” she replied with a full mouth.

 

Without another word, Mark went to the shelf and grabbed a bottle of Febreeze. He went to his girlfriend and literally sprayed her down, and then he sprayed Tyler and Marsha like they were cats in heat. So far, that was the least insane thing Ethan had seen in this room. He covered his mouth with his shirt collar, not wanting to inhale anymore fumes.

 

“Where’s Kathryn?” Mark asked after spraying pretty much the whole room.

 

“Buying more drugs,” Ethan said through the fabric, just loud enough so the group could catch it.

 

“Knock on my door when she gets back!” Tyler said as he got up, taking Marsha by the hand. The pair disappeared down the stairs, and soon enough, obscene noises could be heard through the walls.

 

Mark then took the empty space on the couch, practically collapsing face first onto the cushion. Amy grinned and scooted next to him. She grabbed the last of her joint from the table and took the last drag, blowing the smoke in her boyfriend’s face. She noticed Ethan staring, so she smirked and winked at him.

 

It wasn’t the suggestive gesture that made his heart stop. He thought he saw her eyes turn pitch black as she winked. It was quick, but it was long enough to actually make him question whether or not he was seeing things. Maybe he inhaled too many fumes. Maybe his black eyed dreams were becoming real. Maybe he was the crazy one here. No, he definitely was the crazy one here.

 

Wordlessly, he went back to the desk, trying to shake the image from his head. It happened for a second, yet it was burned into his eyelids. It was almost as clear as the eyes he saw in his sleep, except it wasn't Amy who owned them. The image was just as prominent as the loud noises coming from the next room. Ethan could still hear it, even through his headphones.

 

Honestly, how were they going to make it to the park in one piece? The only one who could probably pass off as normal was Tyler, who was merely with a prostitute. Mark was passed out drunk, and Amy was high as a fucking kite. How did any of these people function on camera? In front of people?

 

~

 

It was nothing but darkness. Solitary confinement, if you will. Except, you could hear the echoes of the mortal world, the mortal’s voice interacting with others.

 

Peevils already knew how to get past it, so she was choosing to stay on the dark, bottomless floor, hugging her knees. She’ll let her all-too-complacent mortal overdose on every kind of drug and destroy her body even more. It only made her more dependent on Peevils.

 

All she thought about was if Dark and Stoneface knew what she knew. Could they skirt past their mortals’ coping methods like she could? Or was it something only she could do? If only she could speak to them right now… If only Dark could sneak into her mind right about now...

 

She scowled as she heard her mortal speak in a peppy, kind voice to whoever was around her. Clearly it had to be her boyfriend’s fans, her voice was never that high in a casual setting. What Peevils would give just to give that group a little scare…

 

“Don’t you dare…” echoed the mortal’s voice around the darkness. Only Peevils could hear it.

 

Was that supposed to be threatening? Was the fragile, little mortal trying to be brave this time?

 

“Just shut up and let me have this…”

 

Peevils will have time to play with her later, that’s what made her stay quiet. 


	3. a stain that never comes off the sheets

The weird stuff stayed at the office most of the time. About 99% of the time, Ethan could look forward to going home to peace, quiet and his own recording space. That was saying a lot, given that he was living with Tyler the sex addict for the time being. For some reason, Tyler didn’t bring his dates to their apartment. All of that only took place at the office. More often than not, Mark, Amy, and Kathryn would come over, but at least here Ethan could hide in his room and not get in trouble for it.

 

Anyway, the weird stuff - Ethan preferred not to think about it. He simply ignored things, like the black eyes he saw on Amy the other day, and the amount of pills she had been popping and lines she had been snorting. It was easy for Ethan to forget the dreams he had about Mark flickering all around his bedroom, and the fact that he was keeping his alcohol in less conspicuous containers, like water bottles and coffee mugs. Ethan especially paid no attention to the fact that he never saw Tyler bring home (“home,” meaning the office) the same girl twice, except Marsha. No questions allowed.

 

However, in the living space he shared with Tyler, that rule didn’t apply, right? He actually brought someone home tonight, and it didn’t really bother Ethan, who could just stay in his room for the rest of the evening. However, he had his headphones on, and he was looking back at the footage he just recorded. Somehow, he didn’t catch the sounds of Tyler and his date in the background while recording, but his microphone sure did. For a majority of the video. At first Ethan was confused, because he had foam padding on the walls and made sure there was no external noise. But then he realized he left the door half open. Fucking great.

 

Annoyed, Ethan sighed and buried his face in his hands. Then, he took off his headphones, only to continue hearing the sounds that had ruined his video. He groaned angrily and got up, knocking his mug of coffee off the desk. The loud shatter alleviated some of his rage. This was the last straw.

 

“Tyler!” he called as he stormed out of his room.

 

The bedroom next door was empty, indicating that they were downstairs… probably on the living room couch. Ethan had done well at not seeing things he didn’t want to see, but now he had no choice. He punched the wall with every step he took down the stairs, and then clamped his other hand over his eyes as he reached the living room.

 

“I’m trying to record!” he snapped. “Can you keep it down? Or go somewhere else?”

 

He didn’t hear a coherent response. Instead, Ethan heard what could only be described as animalistic growls, and then a shrill scream that was cut short. Then, he felt something warm splat onto his face, hand, and clothes.

 

Against his better judgement, Ethan moved his hand from his eyes, and then really wished he hadn’t. Blood stained the couch, floor, and his own skin. Tyler was actually fully clothed, standing in front of the couch. His eyes were completely grey, and the pupils were white. He was also covered in blood, and in his hand was clutching the severed head of Marsha. The body was sat on the couch in front of him.

 

Ethan’s stomach dropped. His blood went cold, a look of horror on his face. He wanted to believe this was just a fucking insane dream, or that he was the one going crazy. He stayed rooted to the spot as he watched Tyler’s eyes go back to their normal color and drop the head.

 

“Ethan-” he tried.

 

“Stay the fuck away from me!”

 

“You don’t understand!” Tyler tried to approach him. His hands and voice shaking.

 

“Don’t get any closer!” Ethan quickly backed into the kitchen, grabbing the knife that was on the counter.

 

His roommate didn’t seem fazed by that. In fact, he looked almost amused. “What, are you gonna kill me?”

 

“If I have to!” He was trembling so bad that even the blade was wobbling. He should have fled when he had the chance. He should have ran. Better yet, he should have never taken this job.

 

“Don’t you wanna destroy more things instead?” Tyler provoked. “Look at you, you’re about to cry!”

 

Ethan blinked back tears he didn’t realize had built up. But he stayed standing where he was. In all honesty, he wanted to stick the knife somewhere, but it wasn’t Tyler.

 

“You’re scared, obviously. But you’re no different from me. Trust me.”

 

“How can I trust you?” Ethan maniacally waved the knife around, resisting the urge to shove it in how own windpipe. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

 

“Well, if you’re threatening to kill me…”

 

“It’s self defense! I’m not the one decapitating prostitutes for shits and giggles!”

 

“Hey, I’m not trying to hurt you! And Marsha…” Tyler hesitated. “She was dangerous.”

 

“How?”

 

“I can’t tell you yet. But I’m not going-”

 

Ethan threw the knife, but not at Tyler. He chucked it to the side, where the tip embedded into the wall. Steam was coming out of his ears.

 

“Right. I’m not supposed to ask questions,” he said bitterly. “I’m not supposed to know anything at all! I’m just supposed to be okay with the fact that you’re all fucking insane, right?”

 

Then, he furiously shoved the empty cups and dishes off the counter, making them all shatter. That’s when he lost touch with reality yet again.

 

~

 

“Well, obviously, we’re not going to the police!” said Mark’s deep voice.

 

“Well, what’s the landlord going to say? None of this stuff is ours!” Tyler.

 

“I got it.” Amy. “Have my needles ready. I’ll be right back.”

 

Ethan’s hand twitched uncontrollably. It stung as someone dabbed it with alcohol. It helped him come back to himself, along with the sound of the door slamming. He took in a huge breath, like he had been drowning. He was on the floor, leaning against the back wall of the kitchen. He was surrounded by Mark, Tyler, and Kathryn.

 

The room was trashed. There was broken glass all over, he could even feel tiny bits of it in his arms. The drawers had been pulled out of their places, also broken and splintered. The refrigerator was knocked over somehow, and all the cabinets had been punched through the middle. That explained the splinters in his fingers.

 

“You okay, man?” Mark asked.

 

“I’m sorry…” was all he mumbled in response. Then he pushed himself up so he was sitting up straight, and then he took over for Kathryn, who had been tending to his injuries. But then, his eyes fell on the thing that had caused this.

 

Marsha. Or, Marsha’s decapitated body, actually.

 

“Easy, easy!” Mark said before Ethan could lose it. Literally, the boy didn’t even get a chance to physically react. He sat on the floor in front of the boy so they were at eye level. “Hey, it’s okay. I know everything is terrifying and confusing, but you’re okay. You’re safe with us, I promise.”

 

“You let me live with a killer,” Ethan mumbled as he curled into himself. Why should he believe any of them?

 

“Yeah, and then you destroyed all my crap,” Tyler said. “But am I mad at your for that? No. Am I gonna tell the landlord? No.”

 

“There’s things going on that you don’t understand yet,” Mark explained. “It’s frustrating as hell, I know. But there’s a reason why you’re here. There’s a reason why I picked you.”

 

Ethan scoffed, but the fleeting idea of them knowing about his immortality scared him more. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

 

Just then, the door opened again. They all turned, finding Amy stumbling inside. She was sweating and shaking, her eyes as dead as Marsha’s.

 

“I took care of it,” she said breathlessly as she joined the group on the floor.

 

Mark quickly grabbed one of the needles and handed it to her. She took it rather desperately and stuck it in her arm. Then, she sighed in relief.

 

“Took care of what?” Ethan asked.

 

“Basically, the landlord won’t kick us out,” Tyler answered. “And the authorities won’t come after me.”

 

“What about Marsha?”

 

Amy suddenly let out a groan. “I’ll let her… get rid of… in the morning,” she mumbled before injecting herself a second time. There was already a bruise forming on her arm from the first needle. After shooting up some more, she lied on her back and basically passed out. No one seemed concerned by this.

 

“She’s high as a kite, don’t listen to her,” Kathryn said dismissively.

 

Was any of this really worth it? Was all of this worth being kept in the dark? There was a reason Ethan was here with these people, and he knew that without needing Mark to tell him. He just didn’t know why. Didn’t he at least deserve to know that?

 

“Do Amy’s eyes turn black when she’s high?” Ethan asked, ready to argue if they glossed over.

 

“No,” Kathryn replied with a soft laugh.

 

“Your eyes were grey,” Ethan continued, looking at Tyler.

 

“I think you’re confused,” was all he said in response.

 

Well, those were answers. Kind of.

 

“Then, I’m definitely losing my mind,” Ethan concluded.

 

Tyler, Mark, and Kathryn all shared a look. They knew things. They were holding back again.

 

“Will you guys ever stop keeping secrets from me?” he asked irritably.

 

Silence. Again.

 

“I’ll leave it at this,” Mark told him, getting to his feet. “You have to figure this out yourself.”

 

“Figure what out?”

 

“It’s right there, man,” Tyler said. “You know what it is. You can deny it all you want, you can dress the situation as nicely as you want, but it won’t change what’s really happening.”

 

“Are you talking about killing Marsha? Because I had nothing to do with that.”

 

“It’s not about that,” Kathryn said as she stood up. “That’s all we can tell you for now.”

 

“In the meantime, try to get some sleep,” Mark added.

 

Ethan wasn’t sure he would ever sleep again. He sat up, rolling his wrist to ease the twitching. “I don’t think I can do this anymore…”

 

“Don’t say that,” Tyler said, waving it off like this was nothing to worry about.

 

“No, I know my limits,” Ethan said firmly. “I swear, I won’t tell anyone about…” He nodded to the abandoned corpse in the living room. “I’ll keep that to myself if you just let me walk away now.”

 

Tyler, Mark, and Kathryn shared dark looks, like they were silently debating it. Ethan felt like a kid begging his parents to let him sleepover at his friend’s house. Why should he be asking for their blessing to go back home?

 

Finally, Mark moved so he was sitting in front of Ethan. “I get it. You want to quit, and I don’t blame you. The apartment’s destroyed, you’re covered in blood… it’s a lot, and you have every right to leave if you really want to.”

 

Ethan nodded, preparing to get to his feet. “Yeah, I’m definitely leaving.”

 

But Mark stopped him. “You have to remember, though. You made the decision to move here. You didn’t ask what the guidelines of this job were. Isn’t this what you wanted after all? What are you going to tell your parents when you turn up on their doorstep?”

 

There was a small, tense silence.

 

“I’ll make something up. The job didn’t work out. I screwed up and got fired and couldn’t stay.”

 

“And is that really better than trusting us? We’re the only ones here who will understand what you’ve seen. We’re just as freaked out as you are, and we need you here. I need you here.”

 

There was that gut feeling again. Ethan feared this particular feeling, because it usually ended in him slitting his wrists or jumping off bridges. But this time, it was telling him to stay with this group. As much as he hated it, he couldn’t not listen to the feeling.  _ Please, not this time. _

 

“I’ll think about it,” he said at last. “But don’t be surprised if I don’t show up to work tomorrow.”

 

Again, the other three shared a look. Amy was still passed out on the floor, but she probably would have been apart of that, too.

 

“Fair enough,” Mark said.

 

Ethan got up and went to the bathroom to continue cleaning up his wounds. He tried not to look directly at Marsha’s body as he passed the living room. Once he locked himself in the bathroom, he leaned against the door and sighed heavily. It was suddenly very chilly, he was getting goosebumps on his skin.

 

And he could see his breath. As if things couldn’t get any weirder. That’s not to say that the random drop in temperature hasn’t happened before.

 

Shaking it off, Ethan went to turn on the sink. He clutched the end of the counter, looking down at the running water. He felt a faint whispering in his ears, and it made him flinch. He swatted at his ear, as if that would stop the sounds. From his peripherals, Ethan could see bits of ice forming at the ends of his hair. This whispers persisted, and they were impossible to understand.

 

Then, Ethan opened the top drawer, finding a pair of scissors. Without thinking, he took the blades down his arms, slicing into the skin. It stung, but Ethan didn’t react. Blood spurted and instantly went cold as it trickled down his arms. Why was he doing this again?

 

His head started spinning after a short time. He watched his own blood trickle down his hand and drip into the sink. Slowly, he turned his head up towards the mirror, only for his reflection to be fogged by the cold. He could have sworn something was weird with his eyes, but he didn’t think too much because then he collapsed onto the floor.

 

A few minutes later, Ethan awoke with a jolt. He was still in the bathroom, still on the floor. The room wasn’t cold anymore, and there were no traces of ice in his hair. He looked down at his arms, finding that the long, deep cuts were gone. But there was still blood on his skin, his shirt, all over the floor, and on the counter.

 

“Fuck,” he breathed out as he scrambled about to clean up the mess.

 

It was another few minutes of scrubbing off what he could from every surface with the only towel in the bathroom. Afterwards, Ethan pulled his bloodstained shirt off before leaving the bathroom, not wanting to look any more inconspicuous as he went up to his room.

 

He wasn’t sure how he got to sleep that night.

 

~

 

The first person Ethan interacted with the next day was Amy. He pretended not to notice that the bruise on her arm had mysteriously disappeared overnight. When he came face to face with Mark, he tried to erase the disturbing dreams about him. The words they had exchanged the night before also circled his head. It was true, Ethan wanted to be here, even if it might kill him.

 

“You’re here?” Mark asked, surprised. He had just come out of the recording room, holding a silver tumbler. (Again, Ethan pretended to believe that it was water in there.)

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he replied as he sat in front of one of the monitors.

 

He ignored the silence following that statement. This was fine. He could deal with it. He could put up with the drugs, alcohol, sex, and now murder. The baggage all these people came with. Their dysfunction. Their secrets. The fact that Ethan was probably forcing himself to stay involved with them.

 

Besides, Ethan had a strange feeling that he couldn’t escape even if he tried. He felt like either way, he might end up dead, and he wouldn’t wake up that time.


	4. would you be scared?

_ “Three worst things to do on a first date?” _

 

_ “Uh, shitting your pants, saying ‘I love you,’ killing her.” _

 

~

 

It was a fucking joke. It was for a video. Ethan actually laughed at his own words at the time. Was this karma for saying such a thing?

 

No, how could something he did… somewhat voluntarily, be karma? Sure, Ethan had no recollection of murdering his fucking Tinder date, but obviously he was the one to do it! He had his date’s blood all over his hands and clothes, after all!

 

Oh god, he drew blood… he harmed another human. Ethan leaned back against the wall in the alleyway, unable to tear his eyes away from the dead body. He slid down to the ground, completely distressed, and sat on something that squished and burst. His mind racing, he tried to remember how he got here.

 

He had talked to her for a couple of days via the app. He learned her name. Her age. What she did for a living. She was far too pretty for him. She was smart, passionate. He learned a lot more over dinner with her. She had a couple of drinks, which was where Ethan discovered she was a lightweight. He paid for everything, then they left. Then… he was here. It was like the time between the date itself and now had been cut away. It was just a blank space in his head, and all that was left was a corpse and a lot of blood.

 

Had he gone into another episode? What else had he destroyed, besides this girl’s life? Should he even turn himself in? Who could he go to?

 

Ethan’s hand twitched. It didn’t feel like he had any control over it, but he was stuck on the cold, lifeless body of his date. He wiped his hands off on his jeans and then stood back up. He knees were weak and shaky, but the general panic and shock was wearing off rather quickly.

 

His body did the movements. He turned on his heel and calmly walked out of the alleyway. His hand twitched the entire walk, he could feel his instinct talking to him.

 

Then, Ethan's hand went through the window of a car parked on the curb. The glass shattered, little bits and pieces finding their way into his knuckles. Somehow, he managed to rip off the side view mirror off the next car. His own blood was getting mix with his dead date’s blood.

 

He kept walking, trying to breathe and cling to whatever sanity he had left. His mind was wavering in and out of reality, and he had the smallest feeling that something else was taking control. It was like playing tug-of-war. The only thing is, Ethan didn’t know who or what he was fighting with, and whatever it was, it was getting stronger.

 

By the time he reached the destination he didn’t know he was heading to, any hint of shock, panic, or any human emotion had faded away. He walked up the stairs to the office, tracking blood along the way. He heard voices on the top landing, and they all stopped upon hearing Ethan dragging his feet. He made his presence known, a neutral look on his bloodstained face.

 

Staring at the back wall, he finally spoke. “So I killed someone tonight.”

 

And then he threw up on the floor.

 

~

 

“You’re really fucking lucky we’re not turning you in!” Mark angrily snapped.

 

Honestly, Ethan was expecting him to be generally unfazed by the situation, given how things went when it was Tyler who had taken a life. However, Ethan wasn’t expecting this reaction either. After getting cleaned up, he explained what had happened to Kathryn and Mark while Tyler and Amy went to deal with the body. It was especially hard to explain why he couldn’t remember the murder itself. All he could do was stay wrapped up in a security blanket and try not to impulsively off himself again.

 

“Go easy on him,” Kathryn said to Mark.

 

“Why should I? He’s a murderer!”

 

“So is Tyler, and you helped him without even thinking!”

 

That was true. That was very true. Why was Ethan getting shit for this? Did he deserve it? Probably, but not like this. Not from these people.

 

“Well, we expect those kinds of things from Tyler!” Mark shot back. Then he ran his fingers through his hair, anxiously pacing around the room.

 

“What, he kills people regularly?” Ethan scoffed like it was the most ridiculous thing.

 

“Remember what we said about questions?” Kathryn reminded him.

 

“Well, when can I know anything?” He was growing frustrated, to say the least.

 

“We told you, when you figure it out.”

 

Ethan wanted to press even more, but then Tyler and Amy returned. Sweating. Shaking. Mildly disturbed. A sight to get used to.

 

“We couldn’t find anything on the body,” Tyler stated. “Once we ID’d them, we looked into it. No family, no friends. Nothing at all.”

 

A daunting silence. Ethan kept rocking, wrapping the blanket even tighter around himself. He wanted to figure out what that meant, but he was still struggling to remember how he ended up here in the first place.

 

“Like Marsha,” Mark said in realization.

 

“Exactly.”

 

What the fuck did that even mean? They wouldn’t say. They never would. Ethan's mind was static.

 

“How did she die?” he managed to ask. “What did I do to her?”

 

Another grim silence. He was staring at a spot on the floor, so he didn't see the others exchange dark looks.

 

“Maybe you should rest before-” Amy started. 

 

“Tell me what I did to her,” Ethan repeated, sounding much more demanding.

 

“You didn't have any weapons on you, I'm assuming?” Tyler asked, to which Ethan shook his head.

 

Usually, someone would be shocked at the fact that Ethan couldn't remember what he had done. But these people didn’t seem to think twice about it.

 

“Her body was clawed open,” Amy quickly said. “And her head was decapitated. Eyes gouged. Organs… everywhere.”

 

No one deserved that.

 

For some reason, all Ethan could remember was the blood staining his hands, clothes, the walls and the ground. Maybe it was for the best. He couldn't believe that he had done this, but he was the only person she was with that night.

 

“What if,” he spoke, “what if someone else did it? It couldn’t have been me… I-I’m not capable-”

 

“Anyone is capable of anything,” Amy said grimly.

 

“How could it not have been you?” asked Mark in disbelief.

 

Ethan shrugged. “I can’t remember any of it… Maybe I was drugged… Someone killed her, and put the blame on me…”

 

“Were you around anyone else tonight?”

 

“No.”

 

“Did anyone follow you? Anyone approach you?”

 

“No, but-”

 

“Then how are you so sure?”

 

“I’m not! It was just a dumb idea…”

 

“We could break into the security systems around town,” Tyler suggested. “And the restaurant you guys went to… just to be sure.”

 

“Isn’t that what the police are supposed to do?” Ethan asked.

 

Mark gave him an incredulous look. “So you want to get turned in?”

 

“Maybe I should!” the boy finally snapped. “I’m dangerous, aren’t I? You guys can get rid of bodies and commit murders without thinking but I can’t! I don’t know what’s wrong with me anymore, I shouldn’t be here, I’m a fucking monster!”

 

“Okay, edgelord,” Kathryn said, condescendingly patting Ethan’s shoulder. “Calm down.”

 

“At least we don’t see you as a monster,” Amy said. “You’re safe with us. We know what you’ve been through.”

 

That was the most calming and reassuring thing Ethan had heard all night. He sighed and sat back on the couch.

 

“Well, we’re all gonna spend the night here,” Mark said in conclusion, cutting the tension. “We’re all accomplices of a murder, so we’ll stay here just to be safe.”

 

Ethan wasn’t sure how that made sense, but now he knew better than to ask. All he knew was that he wouldn’t be able to sleep ever again, or so he thought. He had to deal with the fact that he murdered a living, breathing soul. It was even more concerning that deep down, he wasn’t really all that concerned. He’s had homicidal thoughts for longer than he liked to admit, and now some of these thoughts came to life. Maybe if he remembered how and why he did it, he would be more freaked out.

 

Maybe if he hadn’t had the tea that Kathryn and Amy made for everyone, he would have stayed up the whole night.


	5. if this is what you want, then fire at will

He didn’t look any different from his mortal. Like Peevils, he had cold, black eyes. He glitched and flickered like Dark, but he didn’t leave the boy’s body at all. Reality was already distorted around this group, but it felt even more distorted and disturbed with this entity. He was as quiet, if not more, than Stoneface. He didn’t emote or react, either. He simply moved from the sleeping bag on the floor to the armchair upon waking up, and he had remained there since. His hand twitched every now and again, but he said nothing at all. Peevils and Stoneface just stood around him, looking at him curiously.

_ “Does he do anything?”  _ asked Dark, who decided to stay on the opposite end of the room. Then, he appeared flickering behind the alien.  _ “Peevs, sweetheart, do you see anything?” _

_ “I can’t read him at all,” _ Peevils replied.  _ “It’s just… blank.” _

Suddenly, Dark appeared in front of the entity.  _ “Talk.” _

No response, except for the hand twitch.

_ “Maybe we should force it out of him,” _ Stoneface suggested.  _ “The way the mortals are trying to do it…” _

He approached the boy, holding his arms up like he was getting ready to choke him. In the blink of an eye, the boy disappeared from the chair. It startled the other three, even Peevils, who had that very same ability to appear wherever she pleased.

The boy appeared in front of the whiteboard. He grabbed the red marker and began to scribble on the surface.

**“You’re the one who brought me here.”**

_ “He can’t talk,” _ said Peevils in realization. She stepped closer to him and felt something click.  _ “I can read him! He doesn’t know where he came from… he doesn’t even have a name, and-”  _ Her shoulders slumped.  _ “Blank again.” _

_ “Might as well call him Blank,”  _ Stoneface said. Then, he looked at the boy.  _ “Will that suffice for now?” _

He kept his back to the three of them and scribbled some more.  **“Why am I here?”**

_ “He’s okay with the name,” _ Peevils told the other two. It seemed that she could only read him when he wrote.

_ “We can help you, Blank,” _ Dark patiently replied.  _ “Like you, we share bodies with our own mortals. I assume you’re trying to take complete control?” _

**“HE WON’T LET ME!!!”** Blank didn’t use the marker to make that appear on the board. But he did telepathically create a dent on the white surface, like and invisible fist had punched it.

Then suddenly, Stoneface and Peevils flinched. They looked at each other questioningly, hearing persistent yet soft mumbling in their ears. It appeared to only be one voice, but it was speaking so quickly that neither of them could catch a single word it said. It got louder and faster, blocking out all other sounds around them.

_ “What is it, you two?”  _ Dark impatiently asked, only to receive no response. They couldn’t hear him.

Peevils slapped her hands over her ears, whimpering in panic. She had never looked so distressed before. She looked at Dark like she was pleading for help. Stoneface was backing away from the group. He couldn’t understand anything he was hearing, and maybe it was that that was so incredibly disturbing about it.

_ “What are you doing to them?”  _ Dark suddenly appeared next to Blank, who was still standing with his back to them.  _ “Answer me!”  _ he demanded, only to be waved away by an invisible force.

Then, the mumbling stopped. Peevils and Stoneface sighed in relief, the panic and fear lingering in the air. Dark appeared standing between the pair, glaring at the newcomer. No one ever overpowered him. Dark was the one to be feared, to be obeyed, not some lanky kid with black eyes. 

_ “Such big evil in such a little thing,”  _ Stoneface said, looking at Blank in horror.

Peevils then grabbed a notepad and pen, giving it to the boy, but approaching him timidly.  _ “Here. This might be better.” _

In less than a second, all the walls in the office were covered with sticky notes of different colors, far more than what the alien had provided. The other three looked around in awe, walking around to see what he had written.

**“I WAS FINE WHERE I WAS.”**

**“I’M NOT A KID.”**

**“I WANT HIM DEAD.”**

**“Dark, stop acting like you fucking own me.”**

Blank was once again sat at the armchair, as still and silent as he was before.

_ “Are you challenging me?”  _ Dark angrily asked, standing tall in front of him.  _ “You think you have authority over me, when you don’t know anything about what you are? Listen, you go where your mortal goes at all times. He is unaware of your presence-” _

_ “‘He won’t admit it,’”  _ Stoneface read from a pink note.

_ “Our mortals are trying to force you out,”  _ Dark continued,  _ “for reasons different from ours. We’re trying to gain full control of our mortals. We also get rid of unwanted creatures on this planet, like the female you interacted with earlier this evening.” _

Silence.

_ “He’s wondering about the human,”  _ Peevils said, holding up one blue sticky note.

_ “She helps the mortals, but she can also sense us. Do not intervene.” _

Blank’s head suddenly tilted to the side, and his eyes narrowed. Somehow, the mood got darker, and the mumbling noises returned. Peevils and Stoneface went into distress yet again, even more than before. They both collapsed to the floor, covering their ears in a feeble attempt to block out the sounds. Blank appeared at the whiteboard again, grabbed a black marker, and wrote in big letters:

**“Go fuck yourself.”**

_ “Clearly, he won’t be of any use to us,”  _ Dark grumbled. Although, he was a bit relieved that Blank’s powers didn’t affect him. They could be useful, but the boy wouldn’t submit.

_ “We’ll give you a chance!”  _ cried Peevils in agony. She looked up at Dark, desperation in her black eyes.  _ “He’s… he’s young! He has nowhere else to go! He could be useful! He killed that vampire, after all!”  _ She paused only to scream out; The noises were unbearable.

Blank wrote,  **“Unintentional. Instinctual.”**

_ “So you managed to take over for that moment,” _ Dark wondered, stepping past the other two like they weren’t even there.  _ “How come your mortal couldn’t stop you like he has all the other times?” _

A green sticky note fell to his feet.  **“Destruction.”**

_ “What does that mean?”  _ Dark asked.  _ “Stop being vague.” _

Blank underlined the three words he previously wrote. Then, his entire body twitched. Once, twice. His fist collided with the wall this time.

Peevils gasped as the loud mumbles stopped yet again.  _ “It’s his mortal!” _

She and Stoneface rushed to lie back on the floor where their mortals had been sleeping. Before going under again, Peevils gently shook her mortal’s boyfriend so Dark could go back too. The three disappeared and the room went back to normal. Well, apart from the sticky notes and the damaged whiteboard.

Blank remained where he stood, staring at the board with his empty eyes. He could feel himself slipping away. He had some time to clean up the mess he made, but he decided to let the, how the others put it, “mortal” deal with it. Black eyes went to hazel in a few blinks, and the cold body began to sweat.

It wasn’t the same as breaking every item in sight, but it was just as unsettling. Ethan’s breathing quickened as he scanned the dark room, making out all the small pieces of paper stuck on all four walls. His stomach sank as he looked at the whiteboard. It wasn’t the first time something like this happened.

“You gotta stop this,” he whispered.

Now in a frenzy, Ethan grabbed the two erasers and frantically wiped the board clean. That’s when he realized his hands were shaking wildly. He kept moving, though. As sweaty as he was, the room was unbelievably chilly. He huffed out quick breaths that he could see as started ripping off all the notes from the walls. There were plenty that were stuck up closer to the ceiling. How did that even happen? It scared him more when he recognized his own handwriting on every note.

**“I wish I never moved here.”**

**“He has to go.”**

**“Destruction.”**

**“CONTROL.”**

The sun was starting to peek through the windows by the time Ethan had finished clearing up the walls. Somehow, he made it through without too much noise, so he hadn’t woken up any of the guys. He kept all the notes in a stack on the desk, he didn’t think there were this many sticky notes in the office.

He couldn’t go back to sleep after throwing everything in the dumpster outside. Honestly, he couldn’t even work today. He would have left another note for the team, but there were no more pads left. Instead, Ethan opened the wordpad on one of the computers and left his notice there. Then, he left before anyone could wake up.

Little did he know, someone was already awake.


	6. you are not a human being

**~December 2016**  

A single blue sticky note with the word “suicide” scribbled on was enough for Mark, Tyler, Amy, and Kathryn. Yes, they acknowledged just how concerning the note would look to… normal people. But this group knew Ethan wasn’t in any real danger. Mark, Tyler, and Amy had fuzzy memories of the night their dark sides met the newest member, and it only confirmed that Ethan wasn’t alone in his own head.

But he still wasn’t speaking up. It was like he had no recollection of that night. He didn’t even mention it in the form of a crazy dream. He said nothing at all, and it was strange. Was he really so determined to keep this to himself?

It really left them with no other choice. It was kind of annoying, actually. Neither Ethan nor the evil one were cooperating, so the team had to take drastic measures. 

Another series of videos with fans. Challenge videos, to be exact. Yes, these were going to go up on Mark’s channel, no matter how bad they turned out. It had to be this way. 

Mark, Tyler, and Ethan got their shiny shirts on again. They, along with Amy and Kathryn, ventured out to the same area they went last time. Then, Mark tweeted out the location, and eventually people started turning up. Amy and Kathryn let slip to the fans what the video idea was going to be, keeping the mood in positive and high spirited (“It’ll be funny, don’t worry!”), and then it began. 

~ 

It was torture. Surely, Ethan was getting punished for something, right? Not only did he get the short end of the stick at the park, but now he had to be the one to turn the footage into something decent and not douchebaggy. It was tempting to “mysteriously” lose the memory card, or to just corrupt the files.

Ethan cringed as he watched himself get pelted with water balloons for one video. He was told it was a water balloon toss, he just didn’t think he’d be the one they were getting tossed at. He watched himself laugh it off, and then went on to the next video. Don’t laugh challenge. He caught all the backwash of every person. No seriously, it was almost like every fan was seeking out to get him. Mark even took the extent of walking up to him and spitting in his face. Really, all that was needed was some dodgeballs, or for Ethan to get pushed to the ground and kicked by every person there. 

He could laugh at himself. He could make fun of himself. He could take every “You’re copying Mark/Jack/Felix” comment, every acne comment, every “When are you hitting puberty?” But this? Ethan had a bad feeling about it, through and through.

It was kind of pathetic when you looked at the big picture. Ethan had been having disturbing dreams about killing more people, drugging his friends and murdering them. Dreams about killing himself, and then actually killing himself, only to remember that he couldn’t die. He’s taken a life other than his own, maybe more than one, given that his dreams were extremely vivid. Yet, getting ganged up on by the fans and his friends was going to be the thing to break him.

As he stared at the computer screen, Ethan had been scribbling on a notepad. It was a weird tick he had developed over the last couple of weeks. It started as a fidget thing, something to keep him focused, but one morning he woke up scratching into his arm with a pen. He looked down, expecting anything but words. He was just mindlessly scribbling, so how did the words, **“Help me”** get practically carved into the notepad? Panicked, Ethan ripped off the first few pages, but he could still see the outline of the words on the clean pages. That was another one he had to get rid of.

Even though there was no one else in the office, Ethan scanned the room. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, something standing over his shoulder. Then, he made a quick trip out to the dumpster to get rid of the notepad. 

“Stop doing this,” he mumbled as he walked back into the building.

Then he looked around himself, slowing his steps. Was he being followed? Was he in another vivid dream? No, he was just going insane. 

When Ethan got back inside, he wasn't alone. Amy and Tyler were on the couch. Kathryn and Mark were at the desk. All four of them turned to look at Ethan, who was startled by their sudden appearance. How did they get here? He would have seen them walk into the building. He would have heard them. Maybe he really was going crazy.

Mark was looking at the footage that was put together on the computer. “This looks really cool,” he said, looking impressed.

“I’m glad my humiliation is entertaining,” Ethan said back without thinking. He was about to take it back, but he suddenly felt very bold. The paranoia was still there, but it felt like something was egging him on. 

Mark looked at him, his mood changing completely. “What does that mean?” He gave him a look that dared him to say something. 

“Why me?” Ethan said, standing up straighter. “Why do you guys gang up on me all the time? Why was I the one taking the water balloons and spit?”

For a moment, Mark just glared at him. Then, he turned his neck from side to side, making the bones crack. It was easy to tell that he was not liking this confrontation.

“Think of it,” Amy spoke up, “think of it like… an initiation. Now, you’re officially one of us.” Despite the sinister mood, she offered a smile.

It only made Ethan more suspicious. Sure, that could explain the events at the park…

“What about the murder?” he asked, looking at all of them. “What about the secrets you guys are keeping? If I’m one of you now, don’t I get to know?”

Mark hesitated. “You still haven’t figured it out.”

“Maybe I don’t want to figure it out!” Ethan snapped, raising his voice. “Maybe I don’t want to be your fucking punching bag anymore! I’m fucking tired of this! I put up with your fucking drinking problem! I live with your psychotic sex addict of a friend! I get drugs for your crackhead girlfriend every fucking day!”

“And where would you be without any of it?” Mark stepped closer to the boy, looking absolutely intimidating. “You were nothing until I came along and saved your sorry ass! You would be rotting in prison right now if it weren’t for me! You would still be stuck at home in your dad’s basement, going nowhere with your sorry excuse for a life if I hadn’t called you and moved you out here! Maybe buying drugs and dealing with sex noises isn’t as bad as you make it out to be, huh? Maybe you should be a little more grateful, shouldn’t you?”

It was infuriating that that was true. Infuriating, but saddening. Ethan’s life had changed dramatically since he moved out here, and it had only been just over a month. He was doing exactly what he wanted to do, thanks to Mark. But he also had terrible moments with these people. From feeding into their various addictions, to losing control of his own damn emotions, killing himself... straight up murder. Why did he agree to this? Why was this his life now?

“Now,” Mark continued, his tone condescending. “Get back to work, or I will give you something to fucking cry about.” He backed the boy all the way into the corner of the room during his little spiel. With one last angry look, Mark left the office.

That tiny shred of confidence Ethan had left was now gone. He had curled into himself, and stayed where he was for a moment. Tyler, Kathryn, and Amy were staring again, which didn't help at all.

Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all. Nothing was going to change. He couldn’t leave, anyway. His savings were spent on making it here, and something was telling him not to leave anyway. It was like a faint, persistent whisper in his ear. He had to stay. He had to be grateful for this opportunity. He couldn’t leave.

“I’m the crazy one,” Ethan reminded himself as he went back to the desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stressful life things = gorey and gruesome chapters coming soon


	7. i don't like you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i posted deleted and posted again shhhhhh

**~January 2017**

 

There were many, many wires. It was practically second nature for Ethan to feel the urge to strangle himself with all of them. But he was actually being watched this time. He was going to be watched the whole night, and hopefully something logical will come out of his disturbing sleep habits.

 

He had been putting this off for months for various reasons, one of them being that he was very busy. Another reason was that his sleep was so disturbed and spotty that he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the cause of it. He also didn’t want any of his friends knowing that he was here, and it was hard to shake them off these days.

 

But now Ethan was here, lying in a bed, surrounded by machines, and hooked up to practically all of them. The specialist was a lady who had streaks of color in her hair. She had been very thorough with explaining everything that would go down tonight. Ethan paid attention to less than half of what she had said. The wires attached to different parts of his body would determine what exactly he does in his sleep. That was the gist of it, right?

 

The only problem was that Ethan had walked into the clinic feeling the least tired he had ever felt. He looked up at the white ceiling, waiting for sleep to come. Then he picked his head up and looked through the window on the opposite end of the room. The colorful haired lady was on the other side, writing something on a notepad, not paying any attention to her patient.

 

Ethan returned to staring at the ceiling. He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. As soon as they were shut, he felt moisture in the corners of his eyes, trickling down his face. He tried to open his eyes, but he  _ couldn't.  _ Was he asleep already?

 

He could still feel his surroundings. He was still laying down on the bed. There were wires still attached to his head, chest, and arms. He could feel goosebumps on his skin as the room got ten degrees colder.  _ Oh no… _

 

Suddenly, Ethan could see the room. The colorful haired specialist was still on the other side of the glass except… she was glitching? One flash was her just sitting and staring, then she was limp in the chair with her neck split open and her eyes burned out of her skull. It made Ethan actually vomit, except he couldn't open his mouth, so he choked.

 

He tried to move, but the wires felt like restraints. His body was stuck to the bed. Not only that, the mumbling was starting to return, just behind his ears.

 

_ No, please… _

 

Coughs finally came out, and Ethan was sick all over himself. Dark red stained blood his skin and his white hospital gown. He still couldn't move, despite how repulsive and absolutely disgusting everything was. He just wanted to get out of his own skin.

 

**Good idea.**

 

_ No! _

 

It started at the bottom of his feet. Searing pain was moving right underneath his skin. Ethan couldn't scream out loud or cry for help. He internally yelled at himself that none of this was real. It's all in his head.

 

_ Of course it's happening in your head, _ **but why should that mean that it's not real?**

 

The mumbling was getting louder. The skin was getting ripped off his legs, slowly moving up his body. It was unbearable, Ethan wanted to strangle himself with the wires. He wanted to inject something into his chest to make it all stop. He would much rather cut into his veins again.

 

And then it happened. Ethan was staring up at the white ceiling, and he felt a thousand white hot needles poke into his arms at once. He screamed, but no one heard him. He coughed up more blood, he choked and sputtered. He could feel someone standing over him, their face slowly coming into his line of vision. The vision flashed so quickly that Ethan couldn’t make out any facial features.

 

_ Make it stop. Please just make it stop. I'll do anything, I just want this to be over. _

 

~

 

“Alright, Mr. Nestor, you're all set to go,” said a kind female voice.

 

Ethan's eyes opened. Of course that had all been a dream. He felt the specialist remove all of the wires from his body. He kept his eyes away from her, not wanting to be reminded of her burnt out eyes.

 

“How long was I out?” he asked, his voice raspy.

 

“The whole eight hours,” she replied as she removed the last of the wires. “You were perfectly still and undisturbed throughout the night. We'll give you a call as soon as we see the results.”

 

Ethan left the clinic feeling completely unrested and shaken up. He could still barely make out the mumbling in his ears and it made him even more uneasy. This wasn't a medical problem after all. There wasn't a logical explanation for this.

 

He got into his car and just sat there for a moment. He felt strange. Confused. Very out of place. His reflection in the rear view mirror was in his peripherals, but he didn’t dare look at his own face. His skin was crawling so much he scratched at his arms. The only thing he knew now was that he never wanted to sleep again.

 

The drive back home was a blur. Ethan spaced out a lot, even without whatever was going on with him lately. He was always aware of this little quality, but now it freaked him out. What if he spaced out long enough for him to not come back? What if whatever he saw in his sleep came back and took over?

 

“That’s ridiculous,” he breathed out as he entered his quiet apartment. Suddenly he didn’t like living alone anymore. “It’s just a dream.”

 

It’s not like he saw anyone anyway. It was just a bunch of bad feelings and physical pain that was a little too vivid.

 

**~March 2017**

 

No matter how bad things are, conventions always did some good. It was why Ethan looked forward to PAX East in Boston. Well, he always looked forward to it, even when bad things were not happening in his life. It was fun to meet people in his community and hang out with his long distance friends. Plus, he got to visit home for a while too.

 

Being close to home helped quiet down the things in Ethan’s head. He noticed that when he was home last Christmas. He didn’t have a single nightmare, and he didn’t hear any mumbling in his ears. He still hung himself in his room late at night, but having less weird things around him was better than what he got in LA. You could say that Ethan missed home because it kept whatever this was quiet.

 

Three of his YouTube friends offered to room with him for the weekend. For once, Ethan turned down all the offers. He couldn’t risk having any of his friends seeing what he does in his sleep. He felt bad about denying everyone, but it was for the best. He just had to come up with a valid excuse as to why he had to bunk alone.

 

The actual convention was just what he needed to boost his mood. Ethan was happily distracted by games, merch, and subscribers. He hung out with Kathryn, Brian, Sean, and Signe pretty much the entire time. 

 

It was almost therapeutic.

 

Almost.

 

On the last night of the convention, Ethan found himself walking back to his hotel room, Sean at his side. A group of their friends met up at the bar in the lobby, and all Ethan knew was that there were many shots involved. Sean decided to bring him upstairs. Good friend, a very good friend. But if it was Kathryn, then Ethan wouldn’t feel as anxious about the things his drunk self was going to spill.

 

“I don’t normally do this,” Ethan mumbled. “You’re a good friend, I love you so much.”

 

Sean put his arm around Ethan’s shoulders. “Of course, man. I’m here for you. You really went at it tonight. Like you were drinking away your demons.” He chuckled.

 

Ethan wasn’t tipsy enough to miss his friend’s almost knowing tone. But he was tipsy enough to keep talking.

 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

 

Silence dawned between the two of them as they walked down the hall. Sean looked down at the floor, putting his hands in his pocket. Ethan tried to see past the haze in his head. He spoke again when they approached his door.

 

“But I’m fine.” He wasn’t sober enough for this shit. “Thanks for bringing me back…”

 

“I know what you mean,” Sean finally spoke while Ethan fumbled for his key. “I don’t know why we’re like this. You’d think we would be happier, given all that we have.”

 

Now Ethan felt the need to help his friend. This was something he had never heard from Sean before.

 

“You would think I would be able to sleep more.” He wasn’t sure what made him say that.

 

Sean gave him a confused look, and then took the key from Ethan’s hand. “Okay, you definitely need to go to bed.”

 

At least Ethan could use the excuse of too much alcohol for his nonsense.

 

“You would think I wouldn’t hear things that aren’t there…”

 

“Okay, bouncing baby boy…”

 

Sean followed him inside the room. Maybe he wanted to listen in more on Ethan’s drunken rambles.

 

“I think I'm immortal,” Ethan whispered.

 

He stumbled past Sean to get to the bed, but a hand went tightly around his upper arm. Ethan wasn't drunk enough to mishear the change in Sean’s tone.

 

_ “Let's find out, shall we?” _ It was turned rough and grainy, like it was glitching in real life.

 

Ethan yelled as he was shoved into the wall. He swore he heard it crack behind him. He looked into his friend’s eyes; They were suddenly pitch black. One eye looked like it was leaking black tears going in all directions. Then he heard a clicking sound, and his body acted on its own.

 

He wasn't sure what made him do it, but Ethan instantly raised his arms to deflect Sean’s attempts to stab him with a pocket knife. The point of the blade came way too close multiple times, making the adrenaline spike through Ethan’s body.

 

His hands caught Sean's wrist before the knife could meet his heart. Ethan was breathing rapidly, his mind blank, holding his friend back with strength he didn’t know he had. His fingers dug into the black long sleeve, and he heard the slightest crackling sound coming from the bones.

 

Sean growled under his breath, madness in his black eyes. Then, in the blink of an eye, he pulled a second knife from his pocket and slashed across Ethan’s stomach.

 

Ethan gasped, feeling several things gush from his abdomen. He gurgled and groaned as he felt the knife puncture his torso multiple times. His hold on Sean's wrist loosened, he was sure to die this time around.

 

He felt himself slipping away, but his body still moved. Ethan’s hand snatched the first knife away. Then, as if he was being propelled forward, he pushed Sean into the opposite wall, the knife piercing him right through the throat and into the plaster. Sean choked and spit blood in Ethan’s face, and returned the favor by sticking the knife right into the boy’s chest.

 

The two stared at each other, still holding the handles of the knives. Ethan would have panicked, had he not felt his own blood drenching his body. Sean's eyes went back to their usual blue, except they were faint and staring without seeing, and he loosened his grip on the knife.

 

Ethan stumbled backwards, his vision blurring. He just killed his friend. He needed help. He needed to tell someone.

 

He mustered up enough strength to get out of the hotel room and limp down the hallway. What was Mark's room again? Were they even on the same floor?

 

His vision went blurry. He stumbled into somebody's door.

 

He felt himself falling… But suddenly he was walking again… He had tunnel vision, almost like he was peering through the lock on a door. He moved down the hall… Ethan was too weak to continue watching… Maybe someone found him…

 

~

 

Ethan woke with a start. He was lying on a bed, covered in blankets and cold sweat. He sat up, looking around the dark room. He almost thought he was still dreaming because he was in his bedroom in Los Angeles.

 

“The fuck…?” he whispered as he got out of bed. He walked around the space, searching for the light.

 

Well, it was definitely his room. His apartment. Wasn’t he in Boston last night? Wasn’t he supposed to be in his hotel room?

 

Suddenly, a deep knot formed in Ethan’s stomach. The hotel.  _ Sean. _

 

That had to be a dream, right? There was no way…

 

Next thing he knew, Ethan was running out the door to the bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror, tore off his unusually sweaty t-shirt, and looked at his body. He could still barely feel the knife going through his chest, yet the skin there was unmarked. He remembered walking around with the handle of the knife sticking out of his body. He could feel his insides-

 

Ethan physically gagged. It was way too real to be a dream. He turned on the sink and splashed water on his face, trying to get back his sense of reality. Whatever was going on in his head, whatever was living in there… It was playing with him. 

 

He jumped when he heard his phone ring in his room. Since when did he have the ringer on? Ethan felt weary as he stepped back into his room. His phone was left on the nightstand, and it was lit up with a new text message.

 

Sean:  _ “Look at us being crazy bois!!” _

 

It goes without saying that Ethan cleared that notification without looking at the attachment. So Sean was definitely alive. It was wild that Ethan had to confirm that. Did he dare ask Sean if he remembered what happened? Was it even Sean who texted him?

 

Aside from that, how did Ethan not remember coming back home? Did anyone else remember him coming back home? Surely not, considering that Ethan probably would have had more texts and concerning phone calls from the friends he saw. He looked through his social media and found nothing weird on his part. What the hell was going on?

 

Whatever this was, it didn’t want to be seen. That’s why his sleep test results were normal. That’s why PAX East went well.

 

This thing wanted only Ethan to know about it. It wanted Ethan to go crazy trying to figure out what it was. That was the only thing he was sure of. He was definitely losing his mind.


	8. the wrong side of reality

**~October 2017**

“What do you mean you're going home for your birthday?”

Ethan was used to hearing shit like that. Somehow, he was easier to convince these days. It wasn’t only the people he spent the most time with who were able to sway him. Over the last few months, Ethan felt a looming presence over his shoulders. It was like someone was constantly following him and breathing down his neck. It wasn't like the team, who would constantly pester him with stupid shit. This felt more sinister, and it had more control over Ethan than anyone else.

He didn't like admitting it, but it was probably safe to say that he was possessed, or losing his mind.

“I want to spend my birthday with my family and friends back home,” Ethan finally responded without taking his eyes off the computer screen. He lost his focus on the video he was editing, but he didn't really want to look at the group.

“We're friends,” Amy said cautiously. “Practically family, and you live here now, so you're already home!”

“Yeah, why wouldn't you want to be here with us?” Kathryn added.

“You really don't want me to answer that,” Ethan told her. He didn't notice how silent it had gotten, he didn't really care at this point.

Separation from the team was probably for the best. That's what he wanted to believe, anyway. Being around this group had gotten to be suffocating over the last few months. Ethan was still getting tormented by them, usually in the form of passive aggressive comments. He wasn't sure how he made it for almost a whole year.

Actually, he did. He moved into his own apartment a few months prior, so having his own space helped his sanity… when it came to the people he worked with. That, and he was constantly reminded of how he got here in the first place, so he felt bad about any thoughts he got about quitting. Where else would he go anyway?

Then, there was the thing following him. He still wasn’t sure how it worked. It could control things outside of Ethan’s body. These days, Ethan was waking up every morning with at least one new sticky note on his pillow, desk, or keyboard. It disturbed him so much that he eventually stopped buying notepads, notebooks, or anything of the sort. It didn't really matter what these notes said (usually something eerie or borderline threatening), Ethan just knew that this thing was up and running in his sleep. He still didn’t know what was going on, or why this thing in his head was doing this.

Anyway, Ethan was very close to being 21. At this point, he just wanted to party and drink the stress and dark feelings away. He needed it to happen, and he needed it to be far away from this city and these people. And yet-

“We'll party here!” suggested Mark. “Before you go back to Maine. We'll throw a party for you!”

“Do we have to?” Ethan asked softly.

“I'll make some calls to get a caterer,” Tyler said as he grabbed his phone. “And a DJ, maybe?”

“Yes! Oh!” Amy exclaimed. “What if we go to that trampoline place after?”

They all made plans, disregarding Ethan's wishes. It better be a damn good party.

~

First sign of disappointment: Ethan was summoned to the office on the afternoon of this birthday party he had no say in. He did get excited over the days, though. For once, the team were actually nice about this. They had gone through all this trouble of planning it, though he wasn't sure how or why they agreed to have this party at the office.

He went into the building, noticing the empty halls and unusual silence. Were there no people here? Then he walked into the office, except it wasn't the office. The couch and armchair were still there. There were more chairs back to back each other on one side of the room, maybe to play a certain game. The small coffee table in front of the couch was spread with snacks, drinks, party hats and party favors.  The desk against the wall didn’t have the computers on the surface anymore and instead had a massive sheet cake with bright blue frosting. There were also blue balloons all around the corners the room. Blue streamers lined the ceiling and the doorway. Ethan didn't even have blue hair anymore.

That was all that was here. The TV, computers, and any camera equipment were all gone. There was also nobody else in the room.

Ethan looked around, confused. “Is this a prank? Am I being filmed right now?” He checked every crevice for any hidden GoPros, but there were none. Surely there had to be one somewhere. Why else would there be no one here?

He went back out into the hall, listening for any other person. Why the hell is no one here?

“Hello?” Nothing. “Whatever, more cake for me!”

After putting on a party hat, Ethan plopped down on the couch. Then, he pulled out his phone and sent a message to the group chat. 

_ “Having a rowdy time by myself!” _

Not even a read receipt.

If this was a prank, what was it supposed to be? “Hey, let's ditch Ethan's birthday party! It'll be hilarious!” Real dick move. Just like the challenge videos. Was this a repeat of that, minus the cameras?

His hand twitched. He clenched it into a fist, not liking the weird tingles. It didn't take long for the daunting feeling of dread to creep up on him.

“Alright, you got me!” he called out, throwing his arms up in the air. “I'm losing my mind here! Ha, ha! Funny joke!”

He got up again, leaving the room. He scoped out the hall, looking in every room for anyone at all. Was this just a cruel joke? How did he not think of that sooner? Or did they just not like him? They went through all this trouble just to make that known. As if the rude comments weren't enough. They really did that.

Now fuming, Ethan went back to the party room, slamming the door so hard he heard something crack. He grabbed his phone again, checking the chat once more.

One read receipt. From the guy who made all of this happen.

Ethan wanted to scream. Instead, he chucked his phone across the room, making it shattered against the window. He was losing control, he was slipping away, but the sound of the device shattering into a million pieces was cathartic in a way.

He went to the coffee table, shoving the food onto the floor. He crushed the flimsy hats and plastic cups in his hands and then threw them on the floor as well. He grabbed the knife that was meant for the cake and took it to every single balloon. Then he rammed the blade into the couch cushion. 

Even that wasn't enough. He couldn't stop himself from throwing the chairs around too. Some hit the walls, making several cracks and dents. One chair hit the whiteboard, making it detach from the wall and fall to the floor with a loud bang. Another chair went out the window. It felt good.

In a blind rage, Ethan went to the desk against the wall. He pushed it off its legs, making the cake splatter all over the place. Frosting speckled onto his face. It reminded him of Marsha.

He couldn't take it anymore. It was bubbling up in his throat, threatening to spill all over the floor. Ethan stormed around the room, huffing and puffing as he pulled at his hair. He punched the wall once, twice. Then his knuckles were bleeding.

The sound of the door opening caused Ethan to turn around. He wanted to speak, ask questions, cry. But instead he let out a blood curdling scream.

The windows cracked and shattered at the sound. The TV on the wall rumbled and came crashing to the floor. The metal table that had been turned over suddenly bent like it was squished together. The entire room shook, including the person who had walked in.

Kathryn stood at the doorway, holding a neatly wrapped gift. She had been rooted to the spot as she watched her friend yell his lungs out. Her eyes then scanned around the room, disturbed and startled. Then she looked back at Ethan when he finally went silent.

Blood was dripping out of his mouth and his nose. His eyes that were once alight with rage were now soft and drained. His voice was raspy as he spoke one last time.

“I couldn't control it.”


End file.
